I Dream of Halcyon Days
by kuroishuuha
Summary: AU! Gintoki was a demon before he was human. Shoyou helped him learn to be a child. Now Shoyou was gone. If he can't save Shoyou, he will protect the country Shoyou loved so much. And he did. Thanks to Gintoki and his comrades, the Samurai won the war. This is the story after...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**

 **I do not own Gintama**

 **Gintama belongs to Gorilla-sensei**

 **I encourage reviews and criticisms, but reviews purely for the sake of insult or hate will be moderated accordingly**

 **A/N:**

 **This is a rewrite of the same story as the title. I decided to play around with a few different scenes and some more imagery. For previous readers, please leave reviews as to how this compares, but please give it a few chapters before fully making up your mind on which you like better.**

* * *

Beneath the dark sky lies a wasteland of war and death. Smoke, black and heavy, covers the land far and wide as the stench of decay and burning flesh permeates the once crisp air. Despite the heaviness in the atmosphere, the night is not silent. The shrill cry of steel cuts through the night as distant explosions echo all around. Four figures rush through the battlefield and carve their way through the enemy's defenses. They are young, barely out of adolescence and not even on their way into adulthood, but their faces are set in grim determination, aging them decades. Beneath their feet the ground is slick and muddy, but rain hasn't fallen in weeks. It is the blood of the dead and wounded that creates an endless river of crimson. The pleas of the dying, the moans of the wounded, and the dull thuds of bodies hitting the ground clash with the sharpness of the fierce battle, creating a cacophony of chaos. Amongst the sea of dark figures, a lone figure was clad in white. With his shining silver hair, his sword gleaming even in the moonless sky, and his white robes stained crimson, he truly had the appearance of a demon. His appearance alone was enough to strike fear into the hearts of those who glimpsed him. A nearby Amanto commander caught sight of the figure and the icy cold twinge of fear filled his veins, freezing his heart for a moment. Unable to do anything but watch as the white demon cleaved through bodies, the Amanto commander soon made up his mind.

"It's Shiroyasha! Retreat! Retreat! Leave the wounded and the dead and fall back! Run for your li-" The Amanto paused and stared in confusion at the site of his own body, standing still on the battlefield, headless. Grey eyes blinked and widened in fear and horror as the realization sunk in before dulling over as death claimed yet another soul. The other Amanto, frozen in fear stood no chance against the ruthless demon and his companions. They were cut down as easily as stalks of rice during the harvest.

* * *

Just as the sun was beginning to rise, the last Amanto was struck down, and his eyes dulled over in death before the sun broke over the horizon. The samurai stood in shocked silence for a single moment before cheers rose from every breathing person...except one. The lone white clad figure merely stared and the field of death; his eyes were filled with a deep sadness as he mourned the lives of those he was unable to save.

It was a funny thing to see...a demon showing sadness, but the demon had long since made up his mind. Even if he has to stand alone, even if he has to become the enemy of the heavens, even if the world branded him a demon, he would continue forward...to save _that_ man and protect the things he held dear.

Up in the brightening skies above, the crows began to circle, eager to feast on the fresh corpses.

* * *

How many had he failed to save? How many mothers and fathers will mourn their sons? How many sons and daughters will mourn their father? How many wives mourn their husband? And how many promises of return will go forever unfulfilled?

 _A hundred? Two hundred?_

* * *

It was easy to lose himself to the rhythm of battle, to cut down body after body. He does not stay his hand. He shows no mercy to those who would seek to harm those he holds dear; he has long since buried the ability to show remorse for those who die by his sword (later, when years have passed, when the burning rage of the battlefield has cooled, and when he has time to truly grieve, he will mourn for every life taken and lost). But until that moment arrives, he is still a demon on the battlefield, crying to the heavens who do not answer.

* * *

"Banzai! Sakamoto-sama! Takasugi-sama! Katsura-sama! Shiroyasha-sama! Banzai!"

"Banzai!"

"Banzai!"

As the cries of joy and relief spread through every soldier, the white demon stood in silence. How much of a demon had he become that his own allies refer to him by his monicker rather than his given name?

 _My name is Gintoki! Please...anyone...anyone...before I forget myself! Call my name!_

A warm hand startles him from the suffocating darkness of his thoughts. It is only the familiarity of the voice that stays his hand, "Gintoki...it's time to head back to camp"

"Yeah"

As the two begin their trek, black feathers fall as a soft chime sounds

* * *

 **Have you heard the story?**

 **The story of the corpse-eating demon,**

 **The wandering samurai who sought to kill it,**

 **But instead reached out a hand to the child underneath,**

 **And their tragedy…?**

 **This is how it all began….**

* * *

The afternoon air was humid and rippled with heat; the slight breeze brought little relief to those who were unfortunate enough to be caught outside in the unbearably hot weather. What once would have been a minor annoyance had escalated to something akin to torture as the scorching heat carried the stench of rotting corpses and decaying fields. The caws of the crows was now an endless echo as the black feathered creatures gorged themselves on the dead and dying. When night fell, the wild animals, starved of prey would carry with them the remains of the corpses the crows had yet to devour.

Village crops were left to die, either from the heat of the sun or from being unattended. The men who once worked the fields had put down their sickles and picked up a sword. Women and children scarcely left their homes, too terrified to be out in the open where the war was.

But it did little to help stave off the horror and grief when their men were returned to them.

Some were returned as cold corpses while others were forced to find the heads of their loved ones along the river banks. And some...some only had a cold piece of steel handed to them, the bodies either too destroyed or never found.

And as sons ventured away from the village, with their father's sword clutched in their too small hands and vengeance in their hearts, brothers turned against each other, hoping to bring an end to the fighting.

Many left and few returned alive...

Those who did return did so to empty houses and burned villages…

With the able bodied men gone, the villages were left defenseless against the Amanto raids. The few men left in the village were either too old or too young. The young boys, barely on the cusp of adolescence were mercilessly slaughtered while the young girls were sold off to the brothels run by the Amanto. Females past adolescence were taken and never heard from again. With the village devoid of life and a future, the elders ended burned the village and themselves with it.

Upon seeing the desolate and scorched remains of their homes, the men left once again, hearts heavy with anger and hatred.

They fought

 _And fought_

 _And fought_

 _ **And fought**_

They died

 _And died_

 _And died_

 _ **And died**_

Death and despair were the only two constants in life

The crows filled the sky with an endless black

Truly...hell had come to Earth

 **Haven't you heard?**

 **Only demons thrive in hell**

* * *

A child sits atop a pile of corpses and bites into a riceball; it is cold and slimy, but he pays no heed to the stale taste, long used to eating rotting food. He pays no mind to the stench of rotting bodies and the cries of the crows as they feast on the corpses. Minding little of the difference in appearance, the black feathered beings eagerly carve their beaks into the softening flesh.

Amanto

Human

To the crows flesh was flesh, and a meal was always welcome (but the crows have begun to gorge themselves too much; already some of the back birds were having trouble flying, their bodies too fat and large for their slender wings to support).

As the silver haired child takes another bite of the riceball, he takes a moment to reminisce...

 _The ground was littered with corpses. Some were still warm, gurgling with the dying echoes of a doomed man. Others had long since been ripped apart by the crows._

 _A small child walks through the garden of death. He is used to this routine and heads for the fresh bodies. He ignores the dying gurgles and raspy pleas for help as he begins his scavenge. It takes him mere moments to strip the corpse of its supplies. He then makes his way through other corpses, taking only what he needs. There would be plenty of other chances for him to replenish his supplies. As he digs through the supplies of yet another corpse, the child makes a small noise of triumph as he pulls out a half-eaten riceball. It has been days since his last meal, so he savors the meager meal. He had long since given up his hesitation on pillaging from corpses. At first he had been repulsed by the idea of desecrating the dead, but as he grew weaker from hunger and as his own meager resources were taken from him, he made up his mind: the dead had no need for supplies._

 _And as the danger grew, as others grew more desperate for survival and began attacking others, the silver haired child picked up a sword, and stained his world with red._

It didn't take long for the rumors to spread.

The rumors of a corpse-eating demon.

And like all rumors, the longer it went on, the further from the truth it deviated

 _A child sits among the corpses and eats his meals_

 _A ghostly child sits among a sea of corpses and eats his meal_

 _A pale creature of the night steals from the corpses to feed his hunger_

 _A monstrous being hunts amongst the corpses to sate his hunger_

 _A demon feeds on the corpses and uses their bodies as his seat_

A young swordsman, hearing the rumors, seeks to slay the demon to bring a sense of momentary peace to the people.

But when he succeeds in finding the demon, he is surprised to see a child instead…

* * *

A lone child sits on a pile of corpses as he devours a riceball, the stench of rot and the cries of the crows are an ever constant combination. The only color in his monochrome world is the bright crimson of blood. As he lifts the riceball to take another bite, a hand settles on his head. When he glances up he sees a man, eye covered by the bangs of his hair and a strange expression on his face (later he would learn that it is called a smile).

"I came after hearing of a corpse-eating demon...would that be you? A rather cute demon.."

The child pushes the man's hand away and jumps back, glaring at the unknown danger in front of him. He draws the sword (stolen from a corpse) and points it at the man. The sword seems much too large for his small body. It is covered in blood and has cracked edges, but it is still a sword nonetheless.

"Did you also take than from a corpse?"

The child gives no reply save for the tongue that licks a stray grain of rice from his lips.

The man gives another twitch, face full of something the child cannot name (later he would learn that it is called sadness, and would learn to recognize in the faces of others).

"A single child stripping corpses in order to protect himself, is it?" There is a moment of silence before the man speaks again, "that is a very impressive; however, you no longer need that sword."

The child is wary as he stares at the man; a bead of sweat falls down his face. He flinches as the man grabs the sword at his hip, "A sword swung in self-defense while in fear of others should be thrown away." The man holds his sword tightly, making the child grow more anxious. The man throws his sword at the startled child who catches it on instinct before stumbling under the weight. The sword was heavy. "I shall give you my sword. It you wish to wield it properly, come with me." With that the man begins to walk away.

The child stares for a moment, his crimson eyes following the man's back. As his small hands touch his head, he remembers the warmth of the man's hand. Having felt the warmth of another human being (not the warm blood of those he killed, but the warmth of a living person), and wanting to experience it once again, the child runs after the man.

Hearing the running footsteps behind him, the man pauses and turns to face the child.

He stretches out a hand and smiles when a small one is placed in it.

* * *

The man and child walk in silence for a while before the man turns to the child, "My name is Yoshida Shoyou, what is your name?"

The child pauses and thinks for a moment. It had been a long time since he had the chance to talk with another being that wasn't trying to kill him, so it comes as no surprise that he draws a blank.

"...Forgot...demon…" His voice is soft and hesitant, as if learning to speak for the first time, but Shoyou is able to decipher the meaning behind those two words.

 _I forgot, but the people call me demon_

Shoyou laughs and the boy is surprised by the pleasantness of it, "That won't do; a cute child such as yourself deserves a name."

* * *

The child stumbles, but before he can fall Shoyou lifts him up and places him against his back. The silence carriers on…

As the sun begins to set and the moon is a wispy glimmer in the darkening sky, Shoyou is hit with inspiration, "Gintoki"

There is a small murmur of confusion so Shoyou elaborates, "Your shining silver hair reflects your shimmering soul, and a soul, when properly protected in untouched by time...and as for your surname…" Shoyo glances around and catches sight of a field of rice, "Sakata…"

"...why…?"

Shoyou hummed and smiled, "Who knows?"

Sakata Gintoki buries his flushed face into Shoyou's neck, a small smile formed on his lips, "...thank...you…"

Shoyou laughs and Gintoki savors the sound.

Shoyou is Warm. Shoyou is Kind.

He wonders what the fluttering in his heart is (the love of a father his mind whispers)

* * *

Gintoki craves the warmth (love) Shoyou gives. It is a pleasant feeling that chases away the cold twinge of fear and loneliness. Little by little, the ice melts away to reveal more of the child hidden underneath. A child with crimson eyes filled with so much pain and loneliness, filled with fear and sadness, and a wisdom beyond his years whose soul shines as brightly as his silver hair.

He learns how to read

How to speak in full sentences once again

And gradually he learns that lips turned upward are curved in a 'smile' and lips turned downward are curved in a 'frown'

He learns that tears mean sadness, but can also mean happiness

He learns to differentiate the times when a person is crying and when a person is laughing

It is a nice change...learning to live rather than to exist (that is another thing he learns, the difference between someone who is living life and someone who is a living existence).

* * *

His sleepless night are reflected in the dark bruises under his eyes and the tightening of his hands on the sword, but warm hands, soothing words, and a gentle embrace chase the sleepless nights away…

When he sleeps, he dreams, and when he dreams he dreams of his life before Shoyou. But the warm hands, soothing words, and gentle embraces continue and eventually his nightmares die down.

* * *

Gintoki has learned of sweets.

Shoyou introduced them to him; they are different. They do not provide much nutrition and eating too many of them causes his teeth and stomach to ache. But Shoyou has given them to him, so even if his tongue curls away at first, he grows to love them because Shoyou has presented them to him and they provide a sense of comfort and happiness.

Years later, when his colorful world has turned an endless grey, he would use sweets not as a method to comfort himself but as a method to wash out the taste of blood (and even more years later, when the taste of blood still lingers in his mouth he would continue his habit of using sweets to chase away the acrid taste of iron).

* * *

There are more children around; he likes to avoid them by climbing onto his trees. They cause too much noise and gather too close. But since Shoyou has brought them under his wing, Gintoki would love the children too (he doesn't realize when obligation becomes genuine), so he climbs his trees to watch over them more easily (later, when the embers cool, he realizes that he can't hold them close enough).

Gintoki wants to be like Shoyou: Warm and Kind

* * *

Fire is neither warm nor kind.

It is hot and angry.

The ash and flames hurt his eyes and cause tears to form.

No, that is a lie…

It is seeing the back of Shoyou grow smaller (Shoyou who is Warm and Kind), and being unable to follow that causes the tears to form. The rods hurt, they force out the air in his lungs, but that pain is nothing compared to the pain in his heart.

It's too hot.

He can't breathe.

 _Don't take him away!_

 _Please!_

 _Take me instead!_

 _Come Back!_

 _Don't take him away!_

 _PLEASE!_

He wants to beg but no sound will come out.

"SHOYOU-SENSEI!"

 _Don't take away my father!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gintama**

 **A/N: Please continue to bear with me as I rewrite this story. It is slow going and especially with my lack of time due to school.**

* * *

The morning sky is colored a pale grey as the sun remains mostly hidden in the horizon. Only the barest hint of scarlet is visible. The air is crisp with the scent of winter as frost covers the ground. White and icy fern like patterns paint the dirt. The small fire they had set up the night before has long since died out. Despite the cold, the morning is peaceful. Suddenly, a threadbare blanket is thrown across the clearing as crimson eyes snap open and a small body startles awake. Ragged breathing echoes loudly. Even with the chill in the air, it is much too warm. The sound of a crow's cry echoes.

It is not the first time he finds himself startled from sleep.

Dark purple bruises hang from his eyes, a testament to his sleepless nights.

He can still feel the heat of the scorching flames and the cold metal against his throat. The sweet cloying scent of burning wood and the acrid smell of burning flesh will haunt him for as long as he lives ( _Years from now, when the war has long since ended, he will still close his eyes to steady his mind when looking at the burning flames. He will flinch when the embers fly and struggle not to cry out in fear)._ Despite the quiet morning he can still hear the screams of the children begging for help. Their young voices held so much fear and pain in them. As his body curls in on itself, and as his hands cover his ears in a vain attempt to block out the noise, he hears another voice. This one cuts him far deeper and much colder than any steel sword ever could.

" _Protect everyone for me"_

As he glances at the sleeping bodies next to him, Gintoki clenches his hands. They are at once too large and too small; a testament of a young body on the border between adolescence and childhood. They are both clean and covered in filth, but he knows that soon, when he glances at his hands, he will only see dripping crimson ( _And when the years have passed, and his body has grown to match his hands…he will weep as his hands, painted in crimson, holds a weeping sword)._

* * *

Gintoki shivers as a cold breeze blows through the camp.

Winter has begun to settle, and it wouldn't be long before the ground is covered in snow.

As he blows a tired sigh, Gintoki rises from the ground and heads towards the firepit where a small pile of wood lies next to the dead embers. With just a few quick motions, Gintoki has a small fire crackling. When the smell of burning wood hits his nose, Gintoki suppresses a shudder and muffles his gags as he desperately swallows the bile that threatens to rise. In his mind's eye, he sees a roaring fire and hears screams of pain.

" _Protect everyone for me"_

" _Protect everyone for me"_

" _Protect everyone for-"_

A hand on his shoulder startles him from his thoughts, "Gintoki…"

A glance to his right reveals Katsura staring at him with a worried expression. A glance to his left reveals Takasugi staring at him with an impassive one, but underneath the cold expression was a hint of concern. Behind them were the surviving members of _Shouka Sonjuku.(Later, when the war is behind him, but also still so very close, he will close his eyes and see grave markers in place of the faces he sees now)_

Katsura opened his mouth, but closed it once again. He did this a few more times before taking a deep breath and voicing his thoughts, "What should we do? We aren't going to last much longer like this. We- "

A scoff and angry growl cuts Kastura off as Takasugi speaks up, "We can last however long we need to, we are Shoyou's students and if you can't make it then you are weak."

Some of the others shiver and flinch at the cold tone, but nonetheless nod in agreement.

They _would_ survive. _(They were so naïve back then, weren't they? When survival merely meant getting enough wood to keep warm and enough food to keep from starving.)_

Gintoki kicks dirt onto the flames, killing the fire. He kicks and stomps on the ground a few more times to hide any traces of a fire and bundles up the remaining wood before slinging the bundle onto his shoulders. "Pack up, we're heading out."

* * *

They travel for a while, gathering any scraps of wood and food they can get their hands on. Sometimes they find it in the wild, sometimes some villagers take pity on them, and sometimes they resort to looting abandoned villages. When the supplies run too low or dry for several days, Gintoki wanders off by himself at night and comes back with some supplies. No one asks him where he gets them. They can't bring themselves to ask, not when they see him pale and shivering in the river as he desperately tries to wash his hand and mouth face. _(Corpses have supplies on them. They have rations and weapons, maybe even a map…but sometimes it isn't enough…so sometimes he-)_

A month passes before they find themselves taking shelter from a winter storm at a small village. The villagers are poor, but they take pity on the children and allow them to spend a couple nights at the abandoned shrine. A small amount of cloth and wood is given to them; nothing special, but enough to make the colder winter chill a bit more bearable. They are even given some rice, but the meagre amount is hardly enough.

Gintoki decides to hungry.

It is nothing new. He has done it before and he could do it again. Gintoki repeats the thought as he tries to ignore the pain of hunger in his stomach.

When night falls, and the winter storm has slowed into a heavy snowfall, Gintoki stares at the glowing moon and wonders if Shoyou can see the same moon from his cell or if the bakufu has him in a place where no light can reach. It is a disheartening thought, but much better than the alternative.

 _Sensei…are we staring at the same moon right now? Can my feelings reach you? If so, I want you to know that I lo-_

The muffled sound of footsteps breaks him from his thoughts as his crimson eye sharpen. They are narrowed in suspicion as his thoughts begin to race. The shrine is supposed to be abandoned and everyone is already inside and asleep. His fingers linger on his sheath, ready to draw his bade at a moment's notice. The snow begins to pick up once again.

A male voice speaks up and questions the other figures, "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes, now hurry before they hear us. The Amanto will pay a great sum for these children, like they did with the others. I told you, killing all the villagers and selling the children would make us rich. The Amanto's camp is near here, we just need to give them the children and then we will never have to see another brat again."

Rage burns in Gintoki's heart as hears the men whisper amongst themselves. He will not allow these men to leave tonight. At least not alive. From his position, he can see that there is a total of seven men. They are all armed, but the men are clearly just men with swords. They do not know how to wield one correctly. It would be easy to kill them ( _So, so easy…one, two…as easy as breathing. He has killed far more experienced men)._ His heart begins to pound as his eyes glow with an intense fury and protectiveness _(It_ _is this look that makes his eyes glow a deadly crimson, this look that stares his enemies down, and this look that earns him the moniker-)._

Shoyou entrusted the safety of their comrades to him. He will not fail a second time.

Then men's eyes are alight with greed. Greed for money and survival.

Gintoki does not care.

These men are not his precious comrades, he does not love these men. Their lives do not matter to him. Only the lives that are sleeping in the temple behind him matter. Everyone else can go to hell. He does not care much for people, but the people he does care for, he will protect with his life. ( _This testament will hold true, even years later. Even as he smiles and laughs, even as he jokes with those around him…there will also be a deadness to his eyes and a hollowness to laughs when he is not smiling and laughing with those he has claimed as his.)_

A soft _clink_ sounds as he gets ready to fully unsheathe his blade.

The men have stopped moving; they have noticed that something is wrong. Their faces begin to show nervousness as they begin to draw their swords.

It is too late.

A flash of silver is the first thing the man in front sees before his head is detached from his body. Eyes blink in confusion before focusing on the blood covered silver child standing above a headless body. The head realizes it is his body and eyes widen in shock before growing dull. The other men don't have time to scream before their throats are slashed. A few more heads tumble to the ground.

The wind picks up speed as the snow begins to fall heavily.

It was surprisingly easy to kill again…

* * *

Gintoki painstakingly drags the bodies and heads into the deeper parts of the forest. The scavengers would feast tonight. He doesn't worry about the blood; the snow has already covered most of it by the time he has finished dragging the last body. As he goes to join his friends once again the words of the now dead men echo…

"… _killing all the villagers and selling the children"_

He debates for a moment before making an annoyed sound. Even if these children do not hold a place in his heart ( _When he is staring down at yet another grave, Gintoki turns away to hide the devastation in his eyes)_ , he decides to help them…because Shoyou would help them and Gintoki wants to be like Shoyou.

* * *

It is ridiculously easy to find the Amanto's hideaway. There are only five Amanto, but they are large and foreign to him. ( _It won't be long before this strangeness and hesitance will seem like a distant memory)._ The Amanto speak in hushed whispers as they converse with one another. Gintoki could barely make out the words but the words he did catch seem important.

 _Rebel faction_

 _Joui_

 _Overthrow bakufu_

 _Prisoners held by bakufu_

 _Possible rescue attempt_

Gintoki waits; he bides his time. It isn't long before the Amanto fall asleep. He waits a few more moments before their breathing evens out. Now is the time to strike.

The Amanto have fallen asleep near the children. There are roughly ten children all stuck in a crude bamboo cage. It is more children then he anticipated. He hesitates for a moment before steeling his nerves. One of the children notice him. A young girl, probably no older than seven. She is on the verge of tears as she huddles near an older female. He makes a small motion with his hand and the child nods before going silent. He then makes another motion with his hands and the child seems to understand. She tugs on the sleeve of the older female and makes a small gesture towards Gintoki's location. Gintoki another motion once more and motions for her to show the others. She nods. Slowly all the children close their eyes and clamp their ears tightly with their hands.

As he lifts his blade up, the silver of the metal gleams in the moonlight for a moment before red decorates the area around him. The Amanto are dead…they never opened nor will ever open their eyes again…

As Gintoki opens the cage doors and helps the children out, the children stoicly ignore the dead bodies.

The sun is starting to rise by the time he and the children make it to the shrine.

The children want to come with them. They do not want to return to a village filled with strangers. The children and his friends turn to Gintoki for the decision ( _Always…always…there are eyes turned towards him…as if he could save them…as if he could-)._

He sees the tired look in his friends' eyes and the haunted look in the children's eyes and-

By the time the sun has fully risen in the morning sky, the now larger group of children are travelling down the road with their meager possessions in small bags.

The members of _Shouka Sonjuku_ never learned about the dead bodies ( _And years later, when old comrades sit and share stories, this one story will still have never been told)._

* * *

At the end of the month, they are barely surviving off scraps and wild plants. It will only be a matter of time before they die of hunger and exposure.

"What do we do Gintoki?"

Katsura and Takasugi ask him once again

The words of the Amanto echo in his head. For the first time in a long time hope flutters in his heart. He glances at the moon once again. It cements his decision.

With his crimson eyes glowing Gintoki turns to both Takasugi and Katsura and answers, "I want to go to war"

Katsura explodes, "Are you insane?! You are a child! Children do not belong in a war!"

Before he can stop himself Gintoki also responds with as much rage, "Children also don't belong in hell, but what do you see?! Children die every day because of those Amanto! There is hardly enough food to survive for a day! The crows are too fat to fly because they have gorged themselves on dead bodies! Children don't belong in hell but we are living it right now! I would rather war than hell!"

Katsura's fist hits Gintoki on the cheek. It doesn't hurt.

Katsura's face is red from his outburst but Gintoki can see the genuine fear and concern in his friend's eyes. Katsura is afraid of loving someone else close to him. Takasugi says nothing but Gintoki can see that Takasugi has already made his decision. ( _Always so ready to fight. Always so ready to prove himself…)_

"I want to rescue sensei…I overheard the amanto saying that the Joui were planning to rescue prisoners of the bakufu soon. If we join with them, then maybe we can get sensei back!"

Katsura's eyes change, as if he were waiting to hear those words. They change from fear into determination. Takasugi makes a small sound of agreement but Gintoki can tell that Takasugi has begun to hope.

They nod at him…

* * *

He calls for a meeting.

The rest of the group look at him expectantly.

"The Amanto and Bakufu took something from each of us…"

"A brother"

A few of the children tear up as they remember their brothers being dragged off to prison camps or setting off to war. Either way they never came home. Their brothers never came home to protect them. Shouka Sonjuku go silent and pale. They remember seeing the ashes of their beloved building and not finding a body to bury. The smell of burnt flesh still lingered long after the fire finished burning.

"A friend"

Sniffles began to sound throughout the group as they remember their friends lying so still in the coffin in the barren ground. The sickly-sweet smell of flowers never seemed to leave. Shouka Sonjuku remembers the laughter of their friends as they turn into shrieks of pain and fear.

"A sensei"

The members of _Shouka Sonjuku_ straighten. Their eyes go dark as they remember that night.

… _a father_

Gintoki stands up and grips his sword as he begins to speak once again, "The Amanto came to our planet, our land, and took everything from us! They took our land, our crops, our sword, our identity, our trust in one another! They turned fathers against sons, mothers against daughters, friends against friends…they turned our own government against its people! We can no longer trust the government to protect us, we can only protect each other. We will fight and take back what is ours!"

Gintoki's sword gleams and the cries of his friends echo…

 _Wait for us sensei…we are coming to rescue you…_


End file.
